


Observations and Conclusions

by Swellison



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-21
Updated: 2012-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-16 17:30:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/542022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swellison/pseuds/Swellison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story was written for the Sentinel Lyric Wheel, defunct for several years now. I grabbed it from the Wayback Machine (yay! the import from another URL does work with the Wayback Machine, so I didn't have to code much at all;-) </p><p>JIC you don't know, a lyric wheel is a group of writers who get together to write lyric-inspired stories. This story is from the first wheel, the Teething Wheel and I have included the lyrics to the song at the end.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Observations and Conclusions

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for the Sentinel Lyric Wheel, defunct for several years now. I grabbed it from the Wayback Machine (yay! the import from another URL does work with the Wayback Machine, so I didn't have to code much at all;-) 
> 
> JIC you don't know, a lyric wheel is a group of writers who get together to write lyric-inspired stories. This story is from the first wheel, the Teething Wheel and I have included the lyrics to the song at the end.

      
Jim, Blair and the entire city of Cascade (Population 2,000,000(?!) Sa-a-a-a-lute!)  
belong to Pet Fly, Paramount and UPN. This story is intended solely for  
the enjoyment of the fans and no money or profit was made by the author.

  
**Rating**   


      
PG

  
**Summary**   


      
A trio of missing scenes for TSbyBS. I told myself I wasn't going to do  
any TSbyBS stories, but the lyrics screamed this. Minor references to His  
Brothers Keeper, Warriors and Switchman. Some dialogue was borrowed from  
The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg, written by Bill Froehlich.

For the Sentinel Lyric Wheel

* * *

"Your research is done, Chief." Jim Ellison spoke in a quiet, reasonable voice, hands outstretched on either side. "Why don't you just let it go?" His right hand gestured in Naomi's direction, fingers loosely grasping his leather-trimmed car coat. "Thanks for the tea." He turned towards the door, opened it and departed. 

Naomi Sandburg, standing with her back to the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows, opened her mouth. 

"Not now, Mom," Blair spoke quietly. "I'm...processing." 

"Okay, honey," Naomi set her teacup down on the coffee table and nervously brushed her hands over her rust-colored sweater. "I think I'll get some fresh air." She walked quietly across the room and slipped out the front door. 

Blair's eyes flicked from the closed door to the afternoon sun streaming into the darkened living room. Jim's Sentinel vision didn't need any artificial lighting and Sandburg preferred the shadows right now. He stepped further into the room, away from the windows, restlessly fiddling with his pony-tail. Then he did a deliberate 360-degree surveillance of the living room, starting with the telescope by the tall windows. His gaze swept the room as he imprinted the look and feel of the loft on his mind, memorizing it. 

Blair stepped quietly over to the metal and glass bookcase along the back wall. He examined the knickknacks and odds and ends on the spotless glass shelves. A picture of the smiling Ellison brothers, resplendent in black tuxedoes, caught his eye. It had been taken at the annual PD awards banquet, shortly after Jim accepted his "Officer of the Year" plaque. 

_Well, that's one thing I did right. I got the lines of communication open again between Jim and his brother Steven. I can't believe that they didn't speak for fifteen years, and I fixed it with my stolen microscope story. I told Jim when I was finally ready to tell the truth, no one was listening. Now I've got every TV news crew in Cascade jamming microphones in my face and I don't want to say anything. Isn't it ironic._

_At least **we're** talking, and Jim's been nothing but civil to Naomi - some of her 'let it be' philosophy must've rubbed off on him._

Blair's gaze drifted to the lower shelves, neatly lined with books. He recognized a few of his textbooks from an earlier botany class. _Maybe I should've stayed with the hard sciences and become a botanist. Studied the world's jungles, not the jungle's tribes._ He shook his head. _But that's not me, as Jim would say. Still science is science, the methodology is the same._ As if his seventh grade science class was only yesterday, the mnemonic phrase for memorizing the scientific method popped into his head. _Please make my octopus cry. Problem, materials, method, observations, conclusions._ And the backbone of science was documentation. 

Blair frowned, recalling his Sentinel's stinging question. "How did you intend to protect my identity and still keep your research valid?" 

_I'd have found a way, Jim. **We** would've found a way, but what happens now?_

He heard Jim's simple, weary words. "I just want to go back to the way things were....There's got to be some way for me to let them go dormant. Some meditation that you could give to me or I could find somewhere to tune out, turn all this off. I-I'm just done with it." 

_That's Jim and his black-or-white thinking. 'Today I'm a Sentinel, tomorrow I'm not a Sentinel.' But even Jim recognizes the fallacy of that. You can't put the genie back in the bottle. So, Sandburg, put yourself in Jim's shoes. What happens next?_

After years of living and working with the detective, Blair knew the way Ellison's mind worked. _First things first._ The Sentinel had a city, and an obnoxious union leader, to protect. _Get Zeller._ Granted, taking Zeller into custody wasn't going to be a piece of cake, as last night had amply demonstrated. Still, Blair had faith that Jim would succeed. Then what? _Resign. Distance himself from the PD and let Simon keep his job. That's Jim all right._

Then what? _Jim can't avoid the limelight if he stays here, so he'll go somewhere else. But where? Journalists can be relentless, and the internet has turned the world into a truly global village, so Jim probably couldn't go anywhere civilized...but he could go back to Peru._ Blair's eyes strayed to the sofa, now recovered with dark gray upholstery. For a moment he saw Incacha, the Chopec Shaman lying on the white sofa, his blood-stained hand grabbing Blair's arm as the Chopec carried out a last, desperate conversation with Jim. 

Jim had avoided that sofa for months, even after it had been re-covered and Blair knew why. The Sentinel could still smell Incacha's blood on the furniture. So Sandburg had taken over the couch. He studied, watched the television, listened to music and even meditated on it, determined to overpower the scent of death with that of life. It had worked and Jim had gone back to normal couch usage, without a word ever being spoken. 

Sandburg brought his straying thoughts back to the present. _Okay, so Jim goes to Peru. He could find peace and purpose helping Incacha's tribe, becoming the Chopec's Sentinel again. He's made it clear he doesn't want me around, and he wouldn't need me there. I'm sure the Chopec would have a suitable Guide at hand, probably whoever is the new Shaman. I can live with that, more importantly, **Jim** can live with that._

_The book gets published - three million dollars can fund a lot of research. I could mount another expedition to Borneo, take Dr. Stoddard with me, instead of vice versa. And the world will find out about Sentinels. Instead of just me searching for a Sentinel, everyone will be looking. Some psychics will probably recognize that they're really Sentinels, and maybe some perfume testers and coffee tasters will turn out to be Sentinels, too. Bottom line: there'll be more Sentinels discovered, because of my book. Is that a bad thing? Jim'll be safe in the jungles of Peru..._

Blair's heart lurched. _What if he isn't? If the Chopec already have a Sentinel, Jim would be the territorial outsider, like Alex. No, I won't let that happen... Even worse, what if the government steps in? They refuse to let Jim leave the country, offer him a job in covert ops and some plastic surgery: the gift of anonymity. All they want in exchange is his soul. They'll turn him into an assassin, like Yuri._

_Get a grip, Sandburg. You've been watching too much 'La Femme Nikita'. Breathe. Everything happens for a reason, remember?_

Blair sought relief from his darker thoughts by focusing on his surroundings. The Cascade Times lay folded in half on the dining room table. The top headline and accompanying photo were about Cascade's newly-exposed Sentinel. Blair hastily flipped the paper over and the bottom lead caught his attention: **Jury Nullification? Verdict on Reyes: Not Guilty**. _Nullification? Hmmmmm._

* * *

Blair sat on the coffee table, in blatant violation of House Rule Number 43\. He was skimming through his thesis, reading by the sunlight pouring through the tall windows. He reached the concluding paragraph and stopped, lost in thought. "Humanity has long dug into its past in the hope that it will shed light on its future. Perhaps what this reveals is that it is the best of ourselves that will survive and last us through the new millenium. Watching our every step will be our tribal protectors, The Sentinels, and their insight will further illuminate the spiritual connection of all things." 

_Damn, I'm good. It would've been a best-seller._

* * *

"You can wait right here, Mr. Sandburg," Chancellor Edwards' student receptionist led Blair into a small anteroom next to the Chancellor's richly-appointed office. "The TV crews are getting the podium and microphones ready for your interview. They said it'll only take a few minutes." 

"Thank you." Blair watched the petite brunette leave, closing the door behind her. He glanced around the waiting area, noting its sparse furnishings. A red leather sofa and two matching wingback chairs surrounded a coffee table crowded with magazines and circulars touting Rainier. A large gilt-edged mirror on the opposite wall was the room's only other significant object. 

Blair walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. "So, Sandburg," he said aloud, testing his voice. "What have the years of your life taught you to be?" 

_A loner. The textbook field anthropologist, mingling with and documenting tribal societies all over the world, then returning to my ivory tower to pontificate and publish my findings. I was always observing society from a detached distance, never interacting with it. Until Detective Ellison came along and shoved me up against a wall and headlong into his cop world..._

_Duty. Honor. Responsibility. Courage. Loyalty. Trust. Friendship. All those Latin words written on people's family crests - they're more than just concepts to Jim, they're a way of life for my Sentinel._

Sandburg smiled at himself in the mirror. _Everything I need to know in life I learned from my Sentinel. That has the ring of truth to it..._ "And the truth shall set you free." he quoted softly. _But Jim needs a lie and I'm about to tell a whopper._

The door opened. "Mr. Sandburg, they're ready for you," the receptionist spoke breathlessly. Blair nodded, crossed the room and walked purposefully towards the Chancellor's office. 

He strode into the room, a single piece of paper in his hand. One of the network reporters said, "Now we're going live..." as Sandburg took his place behind the podium. 

Blair gazed steadily into the news cameras. "Hi, ah. Thank you all for coming. I just have a short speech prepared here..." 

**the end**

* * *

Lyn sent me the lyrics to a Kansas song, did you catch it? ****

**HOLD ON**

(Livgren) 

  Look in the mirror and tell me  
  Just what you see  
  What have the years of your life  
  Taught you to be  
  Innocence dyin' in so many ways  
  Things that you dream of are lost  
  Lost in the haze  
  Hold on, baby, hold on  
  'Cause it's closer than you think  
  And you're standing on the brink  
  Hold on, baby, hold on  
  'Cause there's something on the way  
  Your tomorrow's not the same as today  
  Don't you recall what you felt  
  When you weren't alone  
  Someone who stood by your side  
  A face you have known  
  Where do you run when it's too much to bear  
  Who do you turn to in need  
  When nobody's there  
  Outside your door He is waiting  
  Waiting for you  
  Sooner or later you know  
  He's got to get through  
  No hesitation and no holding back  
  Let it all go and you'll know  
  You're on the right track  
  
  


* * *

  
[](http://web.archive.org/web/20020205032927/http://www.katspace.com/)


End file.
